


Long Way Home

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - In Your Heart Shall Burn, Flirting, Journey to Skyhold, M/M, POV Dorian Pavus, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27774094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: Dorian was at home in Maeveris Tilani's lavish apartments, in sprawling gardens with sweet tomatoes ripening in the sun, or among the books in Minrathous' vast andwell-heatedlibrary, and definitely not in places with names like 'the Frostback Mountains'.
Relationships: Male Cadash/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 9
Collections: write to my heart





	Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the **write to my heart** shiritori community. My starter was: "Okay, I'll explain on **the way."**

The way the green lightning from the Breach flickered and crackled as it split the sky in two was not particularly reassuring. This snowy mountain path was far more treacherous than the roads from Minrathous to Haven had been, and even being bundled up in a thick fur jacket didn't keep the chill from his bones. Dorian wasn't built for this. He was at home in Maeveris Tilani's lavish apartments, in sprawling gardens with sweet tomatoes ripening in the sun, or among the books in Minrathous' vast and  _ well-heated _ library, and definitely not in places with names like 'the Frostback Mountains'. Yet here he was, trudging through Fereldan snow and muck, in ruined boots.

"I've still got some good leather in my pack," Edric said softly, a little breathlessly, as he caught up to him, almost up to his knees in snow. But, unlike Dorian's, his thigh high boots were made for it. "I'll ask Harritt to make you a new pair, once he can...set up shop. Might not be quite as fancy though." He grinned, freckled cheeks pleasantly flushed by the biting winds, and Dorian once again found himself in awe of his bright green eyes, the very same colour as the stuff that poured from the hole in the sky, and as the phosphorescent mark burned onto the palm of his hand. There was something eerie, though not exactly sinister, about them. He wondered if they'd always been that colour, or if it was the mark that changed them.

"They'll be appreciated all the same. Who knows, perhaps it'll begin a new trend if they last long enough to make it back to Tevinter." He'd meant to slow down a little, but Edric seemed to be keeping up with his current pace just fine. For all his legs lacked in length, they made up for it with strength. 

"I could believe it," he chuckled, "but then, you'd make a burlap sack look pretty good." Dorian laughed too, or thought he did - he could barely feel his cheeks. "You're planning on leaving us soon, then?"

"Was that a hint of disappointment, Inquisitor?"

"I think we both know it was more than just a hint, Dorian." Edric's tone was light enough to fool most, but Dorian was able to detect the edge of seriousness buried beneath. He'd barely dared to acknowledge the spark between them during the debacle at Redcliffe Castle, instead focusing more on the  _ literal  _ sparks that leapt from his staff as they fought their way through the nightmarish future they'd plummeted into. It was hardly an exaggeration to say that a  _ lot  _ had been going on, and things hadn't exactly calmed down since. There really wasn't ever a dull moment with the Inquisitor.

"I do plan on returning home, yes," Dorian said, "but not for some time." He'd had good reasons for leaving, and besides, he wasn't about to shirk his responsibilities or let the Venatori run wild in the South. He was here to set things right, and look damn good doing it. If he happened to have a little fun along the way, all the better, though Dorian had his suspicions that that wasn't all Edric was interested in...and wasn't quite sure how he felt about that yet. Of course, it was always easier to examine one's feelings when the village  _ wasn't  _ being attacked by an ancient darkspawn magister.

"I see. Well, I'm glad I'll have you for however long you decide to stay. After all, I'm going to need  _ someone  _ to explain magic and...the Fade, besides  _ Solas."  _

"Oh, and is Madame de Fer not up to the job?" Edric laughed, frostbitten cheeks getting a little rosier.

"She is. But a second opinion never hurt. A mage in Kirkwall told me that no one experiences the Fade in quite the same way." Dorian nodded, but didn't push him to go on. He didn't know whether this mage had been a friend of Edric's, or if he had been there when the Chantry blew up and all hell broke loose. But he'd heard enough about the events that he knew that  _ Varric _ didn't need to exaggerate their magnitude. He'd passed through the Free Marches himself and, even if he hadn't known Kirkwall's history, the city didn't feel right - its streets twisted and turned in ways both familiar and unsettling, and that had been  _ before _ the petrified red lyrium Knight Commander had taken up residence in the Gallows.

"I'm sure you already know, of course, but dwarves don't dream. Or at least we don't unless we somehow acquire a mysterious glowing mark." Edric reached up and waggled his sensibly-gloved fingers as if to seal the Breach, then grinned a little sheepishly. "Ah, well. Was worth another try, right?" 

"Couldn't hurt." Dorian couldn't imagine a life unable to walk the Fade, but he supposed the reverse had been unimaginable to the Inquisitor, until it wasn't. Dreams were easy enough to explain, on a surface level. It certainly wasn't as if dwarves lacked in imagination or creativity, given their miraculous innovations, and the richness of their cultures. But actually being able to touch the Fade, to immerse oneself in it, was  _ not  _ an easy thing to explain, even to another mage. Still, he found himself willing to try, for Edric. Perhaps when he could feel his cheeks and nose again, and didn't have to fret about losing a toe thanks to his highly fashionable but soggy and rapidly disintegrating boots. 

Perhaps even over a hot cup of tea, if he was lucky.


End file.
